The Purple Flower in the Graveyard

The Purple Flower in the Graveyard They say things happen for a reason, I hope to God that this sudden change of my life didn’t happen for a reason. “Emily, 16 years old, body found on an empty road,” is all I could see when I read the article in the newspaper, I wiped out the other very detailed words from my mind. I texted her multiply times the day she died now I see why she didn’t reply, she was busy, dying. The last time I saw my best friend was when we were in our meadow, we called it our best friend meadow (cheesy yes but we were five); we talked about her parents’ divorce, and flowers. Yes, our last time together was spent talking about our favorite flowers, mine was red rose and hers was purple rose (she said “Not purple like barney, but purple like the light soft kind). It is spring, and as I walk home from school the flowers have already bloomed. I pass rose bushes, light and soft rose bushes, purple light and soft rose bushes. There’s a sign on the bushes that reads, “Don’t pick! RARE!” I look around and pick one. When I see Emily’s parents at my house porch, I run towards the graveyard where Emily now lives. They see me and hop in the car to follow me, when I reach her grave I lay the rose on it. I see Emily’s parents walking towards me, her mom hugs me. “Winter is hard, Lia, especially where Emily was. She was running away from home, and there was a blizzard, and she couldn’t take it,” she sobbed, “She wrote a letter well a text that was saved as a draft. She wrote it to you, here I wrote it down.” She handed me the note: “Dear Lia,

I don’t want to die, but I am. Don’t you think that for one second, that this is your fault. I’m stupid, and I ran away from home, my family, and most importantly you. I planned to send you letters and postcards, so you wouldn’t find me and look for me. Now I regret thinking that, not because I’m going to die but because you’re my best friend, and that’s not what best friends do. I want YOU to have all my stuff and I’ll be okay if you decide to get rid of them. Don’t you cry! I’m okay, alright. I’m in heaven with God, and in our meadow, in heaven, which with my guess is covered with red and purple roses. I’m going to wait for you in heaven, and keep me waiting long. I love you, Lia-Lia. -Ems” I cry but then remember what she said and stop. I look at the flower and an idea pops in my head. I say goodbye to Emily’s parents and run to the rose bushes. I pick all the roses and buy some red roses from a market, and run to our meadow. I lay the roses down in a pattern red, purple, red and so on. I stand back and look at my work; it points towards heaven, towards Emily and spells out “ILY EMS.” Now a day, I know people walk by her grave spot the flower and say, “I wonder what the story is there.” That, my friends, is the story of The Purple Flower in the Graveyard.

Subscribe

Get Teen Ink’s 48-page monthly print edition. Written by teens since 1989.